


fixer upper

by zhuzhubi



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship, just fluff, spencer reid is a disaster human, spencer reid is technologically challenged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25828888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhuzhubi/pseuds/zhuzhubi
Summary: You come to realize that ‘disaster human’ was…such an understatement? You’ve quite frankly never met anyone else who’s so very technologically and mechanically challenged (seriously…how the fuck did this guy manage to get a degree in engineering!?).It’s practically every other week that he’s knocking on your door with some kind of appliance failure -My microwave is on fire! (You can’t…put metal…in the microwave…)My stove won’t turn on! (…when was the last time you used this thing?)This thing won’t stop beeping! (You just need to…replace the batteries…)- Honestly, you’re really not sure how this grown adult man has managed to get this far in life without you.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 129





	fixer upper

**Author's Note:**

> this is a request from my tumblr @zhuzhubii :)

The first time you meet is exactly nine days after you’ve moved into your new apartment ( _or is it ten days? 2am is a time that lives somewhere in between_ today _and_ tomorrow _, simultaneously both_ really late _and_ really early). 

It’s Saturday night, so you’re still up binge watching a new show on your laptop, though you’ve turned down the volume to be considerate to your neighbors

(they’re mostly older folks - you’re not trying to make assumptions or anything, but people in that age range tend to turn in relatively early. And Mrs.Cavanaugh from the apartment to your right is always unsettlingly chirper in the mornings, you’ve noticed, so you know _she_ at least is definitely _early to bed early to rise_ ). 

Someone starts knocking frantically on your door and it makes you jump - you creep over, half-afraid it’s someone with malicious intent ( _who the hell needs something from me this late at night!?_ ), and peer through the peephole. You let out a sigh of relief when you realize it’s just one of your neighbors - you don’t know his name, but he’s the tall, thin-ish man with fluffy brown hair that lives on the other side of Mrs.Cavanaugh.

You tentatively open the door, just a crack, and say, “Yes?” with a raised eyebrow.

He almost melts with relief and starts babbling, “Oh thank god you’re awake, I’ve been putting my ear up to each of the apartment to see if I could hear any noise coming from inside and yours was the only one - I was so afraid you’d just left the TV on by accident or something,” _that’s…creepy_ , you think, _maybe this guy is dangerous after all_ , and start ever-so-slowly pushing the door back closed again.

His eyes widen with alarm, and he starts gesticulating wildly as he tries to explain, “No, no, no! Don’t close the door, I promise I’m not a creep! I just didn’t want to wake anyone up, you know? And, _oh god_ , I really need your help? I dunno what happened, but something’s wrong with my dishwasher and there’s water everywhere! It wasn’t so bad at first, just a little bit leaking out, but then I tried to fix it and well…I made it worse. 

And I can’t call the super because he was _really mad_ the last time I woke him up in the middle of the night, and he threatened to evict me if I did it again. I don’t think he was serious, but I don’t want to risk it, you know? Anyway, I’d really, _really_ appreciate it if you’d come take a look?”

It’s certainly starting to seem like this guy is just a _disaster human_ and not a serial killer or something, but you’re still not too sure following _some strange man_ back to his apartment in the middle of the night is a good idea. 

You’re not really sure how to respond - he seems nice? so you don’t want to leave him hanging, but also…you’re not convinced this isn’t some elaborate ruse to get the drop on you (or maybe you’ve just been watching too many crime shows lately…) - so you just let out an intelligent, “Um…”

He frets at your unease, obviously distressed at the thought of returning to his (undoubtedly wet) apartment alone, and scrunches his eyebrows together, obviously trying to think of something that will ease your worries. Finally, he settles on, “Look, you can see the water from the hallway if I open the door? That way you’ll know I’m not lying?”

His face has settled into this tense, frog-like expression and you decide that’s _good enough_. You were already pretty sure that this man is harmless, and you’re also as certain as you’re going to get that his dishwasher really _is_ broken, so you shrug and follow him. 

He leads you over to his apartment and… _yup, that’s a lot of water_. Your eyebrows raise in shock, and he just glances at you and says, “Yeah…”

You take a deep breath - _this is gonna be a tough one, oh god_ \- and march over to the dishwasher, resigning yourself to letting your pants get wet ( _whatever,_ you think, _I was gonna shower before bed anyway. It’s fine_ ) and taking a look at the broken machine. It’s messed up in such a way that you can just tell he tried and failed to fix it - he clearly knows _nothing_ about fixing household appliances, because _yep, he made it worse_. 

You can’t help but mutter, “what the heck did you _do_ to this thing?” under your breath as you start fixing his mistakes, as well as the part that malfunctioned in the first place (luckily, it’s not anything you can’t just fix with household tools - none of the parts are actually broken, per se, just a little bit _not where they’re supposed to be_ ). 

“Um…,” he squeaks out, voice jumping a few octaves in his embarrassment - you’re not looking at him, but you just know he’s blushing. A little chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop it, and he starts sputtering, trying to defend his (complete lack) of mechanical abilities. 

He settles on, “Do you…need some help?” and you bark out a laugh.

“No, I think you’ve done enough to this poor machine,” you say lightheartedly, “and anyway, I’m finished.”

You stand and smile at him, proud that you were able to help him out (though a little miffed about your soaked pants…) 

He blushes, and you stare at each other for a moment before he breaks the silence, “Um…thank you! I need to clean up all this water…not that I’m trying to imply that you should stay and help or anything! You’re probably tired, it’s like 3am, I should let you go to sleep - _ohmygosh_ I’m so sorry for keeping you up - “

You raise a hand to stop his nervous ramble and say, “It’s okay, I wasn’t going to sleep yet anyway. And I might as well stay and help you clean up - I’m not just gonna leave you alone to deal with all this,” you gesture toward the soaked floor, some wet (and sadly unsalvageable) papers strewn across the floor from where he must have knocked them off the counter in his panic. 

He just nods and pulls some rags out of a cabinet, handing one to you and dropping a few on the floor (you’re gonna need some more robust towels to deal with this mess, but it was a nice thought). Partway through cleaning, he suddenly jolts up and says, “Oh! I’m Spencer, by the way. It was nice to meet you, despite the current unfortunate state of my apartment…”

You laugh and reply, “Nice to meet you, Spencer. I’m (y/n).”

And that’s how you spend your Saturday night (or is it Sunday morning?), helping your neighbor - _Spencer_ \- deal with a dishwasher disaster.

…

You come to realize that ‘disaster human’ was…such an understatement? You’ve quite frankly never met anyone else who’s so _very_ technologically and mechanically challenged ( _seriously…how the fuck did this guy manage to get a degree in engineering!?_ ). 

It’s practically every other week that he’s knocking on your door with some kind of appliance failure -

_My microwave is on fire! (You can’t…put metal…in the microwave…)_

_My stove won’t turn on! (…when was the last time you used this thing?)_

_This thing won’t stop beeping! (You just need to…replace the batteries…)_

\- You can’t decide if it’s annoying or cute (though you always go over and help him out anyway, so _cute_ is probably more accurate). 

Honestly, you’re not sure how this _grown adult man_ has managed to get this far in life without you. You’re starting to understand why the super threatened to evict him - if helping him was your _job_ , not something you do because you like him as a person, you’d definitely be fed up by now.

He’s a really nice guy, though - you can tell, even though the only time you interact with him is when he needs your help. You always chat a little bit when you go over, and you’ve learned that he’s an FBI agent (which surprises you - _he must be more organized than this if he’s a field agent, right!? How else would they trust him to carry a gun?_ ), that he has a godson he adores (Henry - you imagine he’d have shown you pictures if he knew how to use the ‘photos’ app on his phone), and that he’s a complete momma’s boy (well, he didn’t actually _say that_ , of course, but you can tell from the way he talks about her) - and you find yourself looking forward to his newest home appliance debacle.

…

It comes at a more palatable hour, this time - sometime in the afternoon on a Saturday. You’re just cleaning up after a late lunch when he comes knocking on your door. He has a very particular knock, so you know who it is before you even look (though you check the peephole anyway - he’s told you to. _You can never be too careful_ , he says, and you know it’s because of his job).

You greet him with a smile, “Hey Spencer, what’s up?”

He fidgets and blushes a bit ( _that’s new_ , you think in the back of your mind), answering, “Oh, um…the ceiling light in my bathroom won’t turn on?”

You know it’s probably something completely mundane like a burnt out bulb, but you follow him back to his apartment anyway. He leads you into the bathroom and points up at the single ceiling light, which is - you guessed it - not illuminated. 

He’s pulled a stool into the bathroom, so you climb up onto it and reach up to examine the light only to find that…it’s literally just not screwed in?

He’s fidgeting in the doorway, watching you intently as you try to ‘fix’ his light (it’s not _broken_ , so that’s a generous term), and you suddenly realize what’s going on - he just wanted a reason to invite you over.

It’s so adorable that you decide to play along, at least for a little bit, so that he doesn’t get too embarrassed. You screw it back in and climb back down, reaching over to flick the light-switch.

It turns on, like you knew it would, and you exclaim, “voila!” as you gesture toward the light. He smiles and glances nervously between you and the light, and you think he’s probably about to ask you to stay for a bit.

He does indeed, after taking a deep breath to collect his nerves, “Um…do you wanna maybe stay for a bit and watch Doctor Who? Or something else! Actually, yeah, why don’t you pick? You can even show me how to set up that…’streaming service’ you were talking about the other week?”

You chuckle and reply, “Doctor Who sounds great,” and watch as his shoulders immediately un-tense.

You crash on the couch with him for the rest of the afternoon, listening to him rattle off trivia about the show and the actors. Just as it’s starting to get dark outside, you turn to him and say, “You just unscrewed the lightbulb, didn’t you?” with a smile pulling at your lips.

He blushes and sputters, “Well - um, I…I mean - “

“I had fun today,” you rescue him from his obvious embarrassment, “We should do this again sometime.”

He stops abruptly, his jaw hanging open a little before he manages to collect himself, “R - really?”

“Mmhm,” you hum in response, grinning at his puppy-like demeanor.

His face lights up with a huge smile and he starts chattering about all the things he wants to do together - he’s very fond of museums, you gather, which is fine because you are too. 

Maybe he’s technologically challenged (ok, he’s _definitely_ technologically challenged), but that’s part of who he is. And besides, now he has you to help balance it out. 


End file.
